Sacred Geometry
by zinc.nottfan
Summary: Theodore Nott, an odd child, a strange person, a complicated soul. See him through his journey through the eyes of those who effected him the most in his life. Rating M for some graphic chapters. Please review.
1. Chapter 1

_Author's Note: _

_This is a Theodore Nott fanfic. A lot of other characters will probably be woven in, but its focus is on Theo. The story is told from a various different sources and point of views. _

_All of the characters, the world, the places, and the creatures belong to J.K. Rowling. I just like to play with it all sometimes. _

_**Warning: violence, rape, boy/boy. **_

Blaise stared at the tall, lanky boy that was Theodore Nott. Nott had styled dark brown hair that looked like he just rolled out of bed, and brilliant blue eyes. His lips, Blaise noted with a pang in his lower abdomen, were full and flushed almost all of the time. In Blaise's fifth year, he realized why Theo's lips were always flushed; he chewed and bit them constantly when he concentrated. It drove him mad, watching Theo in the library.

He wanted to add Theo to his collection, but the boy was so heavily guarded. He never spoke to anyone outside his house, and rarely talked to anyone inside his house. He was smart and calculating, and always had high marks. He was calm and collective and hated to be in crowds. He often ate in the kitchens with the house elves, and always avoided parties.

The loner mask that Theo put on, and Blaise was convinced it was just a mask, made the idea of owning him delicious. So, one day during holiday break, while the most of the school was home, he found Theo in the library, his nose in a book. The boy was taking notes, scribbling hastily in slanted, curved writing.

"Hello, Nott," Blaise said casually, running his fingers over the tower of books on the table beside Theo's paper. The boy didn't look up for moment, only doing so after he finished his sentence. His blue eyes hardened into ice as he glared at Blaise.

"Zabini," he greeted coldly, closing the book with care and picking up another to read. Zabini caught the title _The Fantastic Lexicon of Horrifying Creatures_. He rolled his eyes and snatched the book from Theo, receiving a harsh glare from the boy. This only amused Blaise.

"I want to talk to you, Theo, not to your back," he lectured, pushing all the books off the table so they clattered to the ground. Theodore stood sharply as he dropped the last book. Instantly the boy started to pick up the books, and Blaise knew right away Nott wouldn't be won with charms. He watched the younger man pick up all the books, glaring at Blaise as he did.

"What do you want, then?" he asked calmly, but his eyes spoke legions of hate. Blaise laughed coldly as Theodore placed the books back into their spots on the shelves. He enjoyed the fact that the boy put himself into this position, a corner down an aisle no one ever went down, no windows…

He gripped Theo's tie and covered his mouth with his hand. There was a startled gasp and the boy started to struggle instantly, going for his wand. Blaise drew his own and stunned the younger Slytherin. The stun was weak, but that was the point. Blaise searched Theo's person and found his wand, tossing it down the aisle without a care. He pointed his wand at Theo's limp arms, and ropes went out to bind his wrists. With no more need of his wand, Blaise pocketed it.

He loosened Theo's tie just as the boy started to come around. He gagged him with the silver and green tie, smirking as he did. There was fear in the bleary blue eyes. The boy weakly struggled as Blaise undressed him, revealing his pale white body.

"Oooh, I so love our contrast, Nott," Blaise purred, licking one of Theo's nipples, earning a strangled plea for mercy. Blaise laughed and undressed himself. Theo struggled again, trying to kick at Blaise who quickly forced Theo over onto his knees and put his knees onto the backs of the boy's calves. A whimper of pain escaped the boy, his hands clenching into fists.

"I bet you're a virgin, too," Blaise sneered in a low whisper, leaning over Theo to nip as his shoulder blade. Theo just hung his head, his body trembling. Blaise took that as a yes as he rubbed himself against the smooth skin of Theo's ass. Theo's arm, which had been shaking violently since he was placed in this position, gave away. Blaise watched with humor as Theo hit the stone floor face first. "Idiot," he sneered as he moved to align with the younger Slytherin's entrance.

"But now you're in such a good position," he purred again, grinning darkly as he forced himself into the unprepared body. Theo's muffled screams gave him more arousal. He saw Theo claw at the floor, he saw the tears form in his pretty blue eyes. Blaise laughed again, soft and cruel. He wasted no time setting up a hard and fast pace into the virgin, dragging his nails over the pure white expanse of skin. He felt Theo tear, felt the blood smear on his dick and down Theo's thighs, but just continued.

Theo gave up screaming, and tried to stop crying. The pain, Blaise figured, was probably the worst he's ever felt. The thought sent shivers down the older Slytherin's back as he moved harder into Theo, enjoying the tight warmth. He was so close to his climax, but he wanted Theo to scream when he came. A good finale, that would be.

As he felt his muscle clench he reached down and grabbed Theo's hair, forcing his back sharply, pulling his hair hard so that some of the scalp ripped. Blaise felt the sticky wetness of blood on his fingers, and he grinned when he heard Theo's scream of pain.

The scream pushed him over the edge and he forced Theo down, flat on the ground as he fell over him, ignoring the pain filled whimpers from the younger. After a moment he pulled out of the boy and cleaned himself up with magic, standing with a smirk. He kicked the boy once before dressing. Then, when he had a chance to help the boy, who was looking weak and paler than usual, he stepped over him and left the library without a glance back, whistling as he did.


	2. Chapter 2

_Author's Note: _

_This is a Theodore Nott fanfic. A lot of other characters will probably be woven in, but its focus is on Theo. The story is told from a various different sources and point of views. _

_All of the characters, the world, the places, and the creatures belong to J.K. Rowling. I just like to play with it all sometimes._

Hermione wasn't sure what she had expected when Theodore woke up a few days later. He was still a bit bruised around the corner of his mouth, and his nose, although it was healed with not lasting damage, looked a little blue. There were dark shadows around his eyes that contrasted miserably with his beautiful blue eyes.

Hermione had found him in the library, bloody, bruised, and _raped_. The word still scared her, and she refused to think about it. Unfortunately, it seemed, so did Theo. When he had been awake a few days ago, Dumbledore had questioned him gently about what happened. Theodore had remained stubbornly silent, and Madame Pomfrey healed him and cared for him. The only time he had spoke was to request a Dreamless Sleeping Drought. Pomfrey complied instantly, as it would erase embarrassment for him as she healed his injuries of his lower region.

Hermione only left when he was fast asleep, and returned the next day before her lessons with a book she had ordered from Flourish and Blotts for herself, but she believed he would enjoy it more. He had been awake, working on an essay, when she dropped it off. She told him good morning, but he didn't look at her. In fact, he didn't look at her at all, or make any motion that he saw her. When she left, though, she glimpsed him pick up the book and flip through it.

She had visited him every day after that, ignoring the fact that he didn't say anything to her, but he looked at her now. And in his eyes she saw such sorrow and pain; it hurt her to see someone like that, trying to shoulder it all. Suddenly he requested another Dreamless Sleeping Potion. She had been in the middle of explaining the new charm Flitwick was teaching the sixth years. Pomfrey complied, and he looked at Hermione as he drank it. She knew then that it wasn't because of her he was choosing sleep, but just simply because the waking world was cruel for him.

He had been asleep every time she visited him for the next few days. This morning, a dreary Saturday morning of the first Quidditch match of the season, she wandered in. He was sitting up, reading a very thick book. She moved over to him, sitting in the chair beside his bed. She hesitated, before smiling sadly.

"Good morning, Theodore." She said softly, setting her bag down. She set about getting out her Transfiguration book to work on the essay assigned when he surprised her.

"Good morning, Hermione," he murmured back. She looked up to see him staring at her with those brilliant blue eyes. In them she saw horrible pain, but also trust. She flushed as she realized how handsome he was. His strong jaw, wide shoulders, and gorgeous eyes startled her now. She wondered how she could've looked him over before. He didn't seem affected with her staring, but went back to his book like this was normal. She decided that this would be the best way to go about this.

"What are you reading?" she asked casually, and regretted it as soon as she saw his hands tighten around the book.

"_Fantastic Lexicon of Horrifying Creatures,_" he answered slowly, like he was scared to talk. Then she realized why. She had noticed that book on top of the pile that were on the floor nearby when she had found him. She swallowed thickly, looking at the book. He was currently on the chapter about chimeras.

"Is it good?" she asked softly, her voice breaking. He nodded slowly, looking at her out of the corner of his eye. She saw the emotion there and she realized why he chose to talk to her now, why he chose that book to read today. She straightened up and moved her chair closer as he slowly put the book down on the bed tray and pushed it away. Carefully she took his hand, squeezing slowly.

"Blaise," he whispered softly, lowering his gaze to the printed page, his fingers toying with the corner of the book. She stared at him, tracing a circle in the back of his hand with her thumb. She wanted to run, she wanted to tell McGonagall or Dumbledore, she wanted to scream it to the world so that Zabini would be held responsible.

But then he looked at her with those bright blue eyes that were so light they almost seems transparent, and they were filled so much pain and so much trust, and they kept her rooted to her chair. He had chosen this day, when there was less of a chance for anyone to notice she wasn't around because of the school being down at the Quidditch pitch, and he chose her after days of silence. He had to tell someone, but he didn't want the world to know. He just wanted her to know.

She nodded slowly and slowly moved up to sit on the bed and she wrapped her arms around him, hugging him close. There was a moment of hesitation, then he moved his arms around her, and she pressed a kiss to his temple. She loved him, she realized as she listened to his heart beat, his slow breathing. She didn't love him like she loved Ron, nor like how she loved Harry. She loved him like no one else. She wanted to protect him.

"Thank you, Hermione," he whispered softly, hiding his face against her neck. She stroked his back gently and kissed his temple again. She felt his love for her, and she felt his longing to be protected. She wanted him to stay safe, and she wanted only happiness for him. Truth be told, she felt like a mother for him, and she didn't mind it at all. He was handsome, yes, but there wasn't the attraction there, but the love was there.

They stayed like that the entire match, listening to the crowd cheering loudly as it echoed along the grounds. Pomfrey checked on him once, almost shooing Hermione away, but Theo had just a tight grip on her, Pomfrey let her stay the rest of the day. They worked on their numerous essays together, and read the book she gave him. They didn't talk much, but when they did, it was tender and kind.

As the day was winding down and the sky outside was turning purple, blue, and orange, Ginny found them. Hermione was packing up her school bag and Theo was finishing his Potion's essay. Ginny slowed as she approached and Hermione saw the curiosity bursting across Ginny's features.

Defiantly, Hermione hugged Theo again, and he returned it with one arm, not looking up from his essay. "Talk to you tomorrow, Theodore," she said softly, leaving the Hospital Wing with Ginny who burst with questions when they entered the hall.

"What are you doing with him?" she asked, and Hermione was pleased that Ginny wasn't judgmental about it, just curious.

"He's my friend, Ginny," Hermione said with a slight smile. Ginny didn't look convinced as they ran into Ron and Harry, who questioned her where she was all day. "I was working on homework," she laughed, and Ginny smirked with knowledge.

"Oh, well you missed a great match," Ron started, going into a full detailed account of what happened while Hermione secretly reviewed the day with Theo, vowing to return tomorrow.


	3. Chapter 3

_Author's Note: _

_This is a Theodore Nott fanfic. A lot of other characters will probably be woven in, but its focus is on Theo. The story is told from a various different sources and point of views. _

_All of the characters, the world, the places, and the creatures belong to J.K. Rowling. I just like to play with it all sometimes._

_This is a particularly short chapter, sorry! The next one should be longer~ I hope you enjoy!_

Draco watched Theodore the day he returned from the Hospital Wing. Nott seemed more and more calm as the day went on. In History of Magic, he dutifully wrote all of his notes down, ignoring the soft murmurs about him. In Defense Against the Dark Arts he turned in the due essay without a problem, which annoyed a few of the other students, but awards their house ten points.

"How are you, Theodore?" Snape implored softly, his dark eyes watching Theo carefully as he turned in the essay.

"Better, Professor," Nott replied with a calm tone as he returned to his seat at the front of the class. Snape, recognizing that Nott did his essay while in the Hospital Wing, rewarded his diligence with ten points.

Yet, through out the day Nott seemed even more reserved that usual. In the common room during break, he retreated to a corner and set to work on charms homework. Draco had wandered over to see how Theodore was and to find out why he was out, but Blaise reached him first. Within seconds Theodore had hexed Blaise for something he said and the older Slytherin had to go to the Hospital Wing.

It was unsurprising, however, when Theodore was called out of Potions the next period. Apparently Blaise had recovered the ability to speak from Theodore's hex, though it seemed more like a curse now. Theodore left the classroom without a backward glance, leaving Draco to wonder what the hell was going on. He glanced over to Potter's table, and saw they seemed equally confused, whispering together. He scowled and looked back at Professor Slughorn to listen to the lesson.


	4. Chapter 4

_Author's Note: _

_This is a Theodore Nott fanfic. A lot of other characters will probably be woven in, but its focus is on Theo. The story is told from a various different sources and point of views. _

_All of the characters, the world, the places, and the creatures belong to J.K. Rowling. I just like to play with it all sometimes._

The boy who entered the office of Dumbledore seemed very downtrodden, yet victorious. Phineas found him disturbingly complex, and he wasn't sure how he felt about Theodore Nott being in his former house. Dumbledore was sitting at his desk, his finger tips pressed to each other, watching the boy with a curious gaze as he sat down. The boy was polite, but perhaps in an arrogant way. Phineas was at once reminded of Tom Riddle. This child was increasingly disturbing.

The boy had bright blue eyes, just like Dumbledore, which surveyed the office with an distinct air of indifference before settling on the pensive. Phineas wondered if the sixteen year old knew what it was, but he would never get the chance to ask. Dumbledore was very quiet, watching the boy with that piercing gaze.

Phineas knew this technique, and usually disapproved of it, but in this instance he was insanely curious about Nott's reaction. Dumbledore was just staring him down, waiting for the boy to snap and confess to the cursing. However, the moment Theodore realized that Dumbledore was staring at him, he turned and stared back. There was a heavy silence, for close to five minutes before Theodore gestured to Fawkes.

"What is its name?" he asked casually, crossing his arms. Dumbledore blinked in surprised, but Phineas had to hand it to Nott. The boy was hardy, that was for sure.

"That is Fawkes, Theodore," Dumbledore said slowly, putting his hands on the desk, watching Nott with a curiosity. "Do you know what happened to Blaise Zabini?"

"From what I heard he got what he deserved," Theodore said with a shrug, his eyes flickering over Fawkes with a slight smile. Phineas felt that Theodore Nott was either a very good actor, or a boy who suffered through very much. It was peeking through his Slytherin mask, and it unnerved Phineas. The boy was very creepy.

"Perhaps you can elaborate for me?" Dumbledore asked kindly, a small smile twitching his lips, "I'm afraid I am very out of the loop with the actions of the students now and then."

There was a long silence before Theodore, sighing, answered, "Zabini was one of those people who cares about no one, and doesn't care what he does to people." Dumbledore stared at Theodore. His tone was so light, carefree, it was scary. Phineas watched Theodore with interest. Suddenly Nott stood up, pacing.

"I hate him!" Theodore yelled, pushing over a table, sending the silver instruments flying into the wall and onto the floor. Phineas straightened up, glaring at the boy, thinking that he was very stupid and childish for doing that.

"Never would a student in _my_ day-" he started with a huff, before he was broken off by Dumbledore. Seething, he watched as Dumbledore stood and stepped around his desk. Theodore was staring at the mess he made, but looked up quickly when he saw the elder wizard move.

"Why do you hate him, Theodore?" Dumbledore asked softly, standing in front of the boy just as Professor Snape walked in. There was an unearthly silence as Snape surveyed the room before stepping forwards slowly. Phineas enjoyed Snape's presence; perhaps he would correct Nott's disgusting behavior.

Yet, just when Snape was about to speak, Dumbledore held up his hand. Nott looked as if he were at loss for words. His blue eyes seemed to become transparent as he looked over the wreck he made. He turned from Dumbledore, drawing his wand and repairing the broken items. "Because he hurt me," Theodore said softly as he set the table back and placed the silver instruments back onto its top. Snape slowly reached out, his hand touching Theodore on the shoulder, patting it.

Dumbledore watched with an understanding and carefully sat down again. Theodore mirrored him with Snape standing by him. Phineas watched as Theodore stared at the desk, his eyes brimming with tears. Phineas at first felt rage for the boy; how dare he show weakness if he was from Slytherin. But there were whispers around him about the other boy, Zabini, what he had done.

It clicked for Phineas, and he didn't want to watch or hear anything more of it. He turned and left that portrait, escaping to the one in the Black's family house instead. He didn't want to hear the story that Theodore surely would tell. He couldn't.


	5. Chapter 5

_Author's Note: _

_This is a Theodore Nott fanfic. A lot of other characters will probably be woven in, but its focus is on Theo. The story is told from a various different sources and point of views. _

_All of the characters, the world, the places, and the creatures belong to J.K. Rowling. I just like to play with it all sometimes. _

Daphne watched Theodore Nott with a longing deep in her heart, and she flipped her blonde hair out of her eyes to watch him in class. She doodled his name, and drew his eyes on any spare parchment she could. She loved him, and she hated to see him hurt. But he was always hurting now. She knew he was alone at home, so he didn't leave Hogwarts during the holidays. She managed to convince her mother and father to let her stay for the holidays as well, though she didn't tell them the reason.

She watched him in the common room; they were the few Slytherin sixth years left. Pansy had gone home, so had Tracey and Millicent. The girl she shared her dorms with was still here, but Daphne never saw her. She didn't really care. She only had eyes for the sad, fallen angel that was Theodore Nott. He cried, though it wasn't visible. She saw the tears in his eyes, his beautiful, and sad blue eyes. She wanted to hold him close, whisper endearments to him, cry with him. She wanted to protect him, and love him.

No one really found out what Theodore did to Zabini, but the latter had to be sent to St. Mungos. The curse Theo hexed him with wasn't fatal, but it was exactly pleasant either. Daphne didn't ever want to be in Zabini's shoes after that, he would never be the same. Theodore, however, seemed to escape any punishment and the entire Slytherin house was baffled by it. There were a few eye witness accounts to it, yet Snape and Dumbledore didn't even slap Theodore's hand.

However, that gossip soon turned stale and everyone turned back to the Chosen One rubbish that circulated, and Theodore faded into the background again. To all, except Daphne, he was just another pureblood face who just didn't care.

She finally got up the courage to talk to him third day of break. She wandered over and sat down next to him on the lush love seat that sat in front of a huge window that surveyed the lake. She enjoyed this view a lot, particularly because it was like a coral reef, though without all the colors. There was always something to see from this window. Today there were watching kelpies 'dance' around for Theodore, who wasn't really watching.

When she sat down, he glanced over, surprise written in his eyes. Oh, his beautiful eyes, his windows to his soul, mind, and emotions. Didn't anyone realize this? She thought sadly, and carefully reached out and took his hand. He didn't pull back, he didn't yell, he just watched in silence. She didn't know what was worse until she saw him relax into the cushions. She smiled, her heart beating fast with happiness, and she pulled her feet up and curled up against him. He carefully wrapped his arm around her shoulders and she stroked his cheek. They were comfortable together, and she knew why.

Although they never shared any words, they didn't need to. She understood him, knew his fears, and his hopes, just by looking at him. His eyes told her everything, just like her eyes told him everything. Green clashed blue, and she felt that they were meant to be. She didn't feel any need to kiss him, or pull him closer, to hog him in front of Pansy and the other girls. She didn't need to hold his hand every second of the day, or laugh shamefully at everything he said. She didn't need to win him like Pansy needed to win Draco. She always had Theodore Nott, and she always will.

But then it happened. It was right after holidays, Draco bragging about his presents at breakfast. She was sitting next to Theodore, sipping her orange juice. They had decided, mutely, to hold hands today. If she was honest with herself, which she usually was, she felt the dread all morning. Today wasn't going to be good. He was reading the _Daily Prophet_, like he did ever morning and she felt a cold feeling wash over her.

Suddenly, his hand tightened onto hers, and she felt his body shake. Alarmed, she looked up to see his hand gripping the paper, and she saw blood stain it. His nails were digging into his palm. She looked into his eyes, and saw they were brimmed with tears, _real tears_. She looked at the paper, curious and hating whatever caused her Theodore to cry. She gasped at the headline, and only managed to read a few lines before she felt Snape wretch Theodore from her, and try and lead him from the Great Hall. She stood and followed, their fellow housemates watching with wide eyes, and whispering gossip.

She glared at the rest of the Great Hall and found that disgusting Granger girl staring with wide, fearful eyes, her two boyfriends staring with confused expressions. But Theodore couldn't make it to privacy. It was like an animal dying, the grief echoing along the walls, shaking everyone to the core. Everyone was watching now. Slughorn had left the staff table and was currently trying to help Snape deliver the stricken boy from the Great Hall.

"_NO. NO…PLEASE, NO._" The sounds filled her head and she felt tears stream down her face. He couldn't stand anymore, and she ran to help him, ignoring the warnings of the professors. She hugged him, let him sob onto her shoulder. She cried with him, stroking his hair. She heard the gossip spread like wild fire, and the solemn understanding. She managed to coax him to his feet and lead him from the Great Hall.

She would be having a word with Potter and his friends after this.


	6. Chapter 6

_Author's Note:_

_This is a Theodore Nott fanfic. A lot of other characters will probably be woven in, but its focus is on Theo. The story is told from a various different sources and point of views. _

_All of the characters, the world, the places, and the creatures belong to J.K. Rowling. I just like to play with it all sometimes._

"Any one we know?" Ron asked, as usual, while he, Harry, drank some orange juice. Hermione didn't answer, which caused him to look up fearfully. A few others at the table were silent and pale as they read whatever was going on. "Hermione?" Ron tried, but she just shook her head, her eyes brimming with tears as she looked over at the Slytherin table.

"Oh no," she whispered, letting the paper fall to the table. Harry snatched up quickly, hoping that it was no one he truly knew. Could he survive something like Sirius again? No, he didn't think he could. His heart thudded in his head as his eyes took in the headline, Ron reading over his shoulder with the same panic stricken air.

_**Notorious and Dangerous Death Eater Kissed!**_

Harry felt dumb as he stared at it. Who cared if a Death Eater got kissed? It should've happened sooner, in his opinion. He glanced to Ron who shrugged. Obviously, he wasn't alone in his thoughts. "Hermione, who cares?" he asked, folding the _Prophet_ up. Suddenly he felt her cold glare and he shrank back from it.

"Who cares!" She snapped coldly, "Harry, don't ever say that—" She stared to lecture but then he noticed a commotion at the Slytherin table. He tensed, instinctively ready to jinx any of them, his hand tightening around his wand. But there were no jeers, no one with wands drawn. He saw a flash of read on another copy of the _Prophet_, but quickly forgot about it. A boy, who he recognized as Theodore Nott, was being led from the Great Hall by Snape. Or, he was trying to lead the boy, whose hand was bleeding horribly and whose face was contorted into grief. A pretty girl, about Hermione's height with long blonde hair, followed.

The girl turned, glaring at the rest of the hall, as if she were daring them to laugh at his pain. Harry felt a lump rise in his throat. He didn't think any of this was funny. He felt like he did at St. Mungos when they had encountered Neville, his grandmother, and his parents. His parents who were gone. He glanced down the table as saw Neville staring at Theodore, his eyes wide with fear and sadness. They were in the same boat, weren't they? Something happened to Theodore's parents.

He looked up to see the girl glaring right at Hermione, who didn't seemed bothered. She just seemed concerned about Theodore, her lower lip trembling in that horrible way that made Harry know something was terribly wrong. It was then confirmed. Theodore couldn't walk anymore, his shock clear on his face as he stared at the blood. Harry knew it was that blood that made reality sink in. When he screamed, Harry was reminded of Sirius: Sirius slipping through the veil, falling into Death's waiting arms, never to be found. Harry heard Theodore's screams through his entire body. The girl abandoned glaring at the hall and rushed to help him.

Harry, however, felt cold and numb all over. Theodore was sobbing now, and he felt as if Theodore had just lost everything. Harry numbly picked up the _Prophet_ and continued to read…

_Dangerous, cruel, and notorious are all words that we use to describe Leon Alexander Nott, a man of murder and slaughter. Nott, though, was apprehended by the Ministry in the Ministry earlier this year, and was promptly sent to Azkaban. Yet, he proved far too dangerous and fatal to the world even within the clutched of Dementors. _

"_He laughed every time the Dementors sought him out. He was mad, that's for sure, and no one else felt save around him, even with him chained up and the like." A Ministry official reported. There was only one thing that the Ministry could do to ensure the complete safety of the wizarding population. They ordered the Kiss of one Leon Nott at 7:06 p.m. yesterday evening. _

"_This is wrong! No one was warned, no one was told. What about his son? His family? This isn't right," Narcissa Malfoy sobbed to our reporter. Naturally she would say such things, as her own husband, Lucius Malfoy, was also arrested and sentenced to Azkaban. However, reports say Malfoy is timid and mild and holds no threat to anyone from within his cell._

_There is no word from the family of one Leon Nott as of now, but we at the Prophet will keep you all updated._

Harry felt sick to his stomach. Theodore didn't even know until now. He found out like everyone else. Harry thought about his own parents, how they died and he didn't even get to know them…but what if he had gotten to know them and they were wretched away from him without a goodbye? Sirius was like that, Harry thought with a lump in his throat. Yet, he wasn't, not like Theodore's father. Sirius had died in battle, he died fighting…And Nott wasn't even dead, he was just gone. Theodore would never been recognized by his father again.

The thought caused him to toss the paper away. Hermione was crying, and Ron looked pale and sickly. Ginny had a determined look on her face, but in her eyes there was a deep sadness. No one talked the rest of breakfast. Harry didn't think anyone could after they all realized what Theodore just lost.


	7. Chapter 7

_Author's Note: _

_This is a Theodore Nott fanfic. A lot of other characters will probably be woven in, but its focus is on Theo. The story is told from a various different sources and point of views. _

All of the characters, the world, the places, and the creatures belong to J.K. Rowling. I just like to play with it all sometimes.

Theodore Nott was walking, almost as if he wasn't aware where he was. The sight pulled at Snape's emotions, but he kept his face calm and stony. He was only escorting a student to see his father, though why Theodore wanted to see him was beyond understanding. They were in Azkaban, a Ministry official leading them through the halls and among the dementors to the Kissed wing. Theodore was pale, and looked far younger than he was. Snape was reminded of a rabbit trying to run from wolves.

The dementors were tempted to snatch their memories, but Snape didn't know if Theodore had a happy memory left to give. As they walked the dank halls, screams echoed from behind them. They were entering a far more silent, colder part of the wizarding prison that Snape had never thought he would enter.

They slowed towards a cell marked X5987. It was dirty, cold, and quite inhabitable by any sane human being. Theodore paused as the Official opened the door for him. Would the boy enter the cell, and try to face the husk that was his father? Then, with blue eyes hardening like ice, Theodore entered the small space, Snape following protectively. It was dark and unnaturally silent…then there was a strangled whimper from the corner.

A man that used to have glamour and grandeur now sat in rags, his face sunken in with his wide blue eyes rolling in their sockets. With a pang, Snape realized that their blue was the exact color of Theodore's eyes. The man was a skeleton, a husk with no soul and no mind. Theodore was completely silent as he kneeled before the man that was his father. Was…Snape stared at the boy who had nothing left.

"I visited mother today," he whispered. Snape recognized the tactic at once. The boy was trying to pull out some emotional strings of the elder Nott, to try and retrieve any reaction whatsoever. However, the once-man was just staring into space. He wasn't there, he wasn't anywhere. He was gone in the worst possible way. Yet the boy preceded, his voice breaking with his own emotion. "The apple tree you planted next to the tombstone still had leaves on it, and already has some buds growing. I left her a Solanaceae, a pink one that she always liked." He said softly, but broke off.

The boy was crying now, silent tears streaming down his pale white face. Snape knew that if left too long the boy would try to be taken as well. He dragged Theodore up to his feet and forced him to leave the cell, to leave Azkaban. Not before, though, the Official slipped the boy a package. Snape never did find out what was in that package.


	8. Chapter 8

_Author's Note: _

_This is a Theodore Nott fanfic. A lot of other characters will probably be woven in, but its focus is on Theo. The story is told from a various different sources and point of views. _

All of the characters, the world, the places, and the creatures belong to J.K. Rowling. I just like to play with it all sometimes.

Draco watched Theodore every night now. He wanted to talk to Theo, but he was too scared of those piercing blue eyes, those sad, sad blue eyes. So he just watched. Theodore had left the school for the weekend. The rumor was that he went to see his father, then he saw to the Nott Estate. Whatever was true, Theo had returned with a package, a small bundle of priceless treasures (that's what the rumor said anyways). Draco overheard a Hufflepuff girl say that it was all goblin-made dark objects that he was planning on using on all the younger muggleborns.

As good as that would've been, Draco thought, it wasn't true. He supposed, in their own way the objects Theodore had acquired were priceless. His father wand was one of them, Draco recognized it right away. He had remembered when he was eleven, getting his first wand. His father and Mr. Nott had taken their sons together. Theodore had asked his father what his wand was.

"Twelve and a half inches, pine wood, phoenix feather core, inflexible."

Theodore had then asked what his mother's wand had been. Mr. Nott had gotten solemn at that, but answered anyways, while Lucius hurried to distract Draco. Draco overheard anyways, "Nine and one quarter, silver lime wood, unicorn hair core, swishy."

As far as Draco knows, though, the wand Theodore got that day is the same wand he has today, a dogwood wand, eleven and a half inches, slightly springy with a dragon heartstring core. Draco always loved how Theo's wand worked for him. They seemed to have no trouble mastering spells within the first few tries of trying them. If only Theodore devoted himself to his studies, he would surely bypass Granger by legions, yet Nott never felt like doing anything.

Draco still watched him, though, regardless of his poor academic streak. Theodore often took out the wand from the little bag, studying the wand his father wielded. Draco wanted to see what the wand had cast in its life, but Theodore didn't seem all that interested in that. He held it like his father did; he sought out the flaws and perfections of the wood, studied how it felt in his hand, how it did magic for him. Then he would put it carefully away.

It about a month after Theodore had got the bundle that Draco saw the second object he had received. It was a locket of white gold on a chain of white gold, engraved with words. It was plainly goblin made, and it had the crest of the Nott family on the diamond pendent. Draco was jealous Theodore had received such a powerful treasure of his family, but he had to remind himself Theodore had gained it through a horrible loss. Theodore never wore it, but he took it out sometimes and opened it every now and then. He had discovered a letter, and he would read it sometimes. Draco never knew what was on the letter, but his curiosity almost led him to search Theo's things to find out.

Almost.

It was almost Easter holiday when Theo had revealed another object from the depths of the bundle. A picture, battered and creased heavily. Draco hadn't hoped to see what was on the picture, but Theodore had smoothed the picture with magic and placed it in a ornate frame of black iron. The woman in the photo was sitting at a vanity that was littered with perfume bottles and jewelry cases, pictures of a toddler with bright blue eyes were stuck in the corners of her mirror. A pure white cat rubbed its body against her ankles as she brushed her long brown hair. She was smiling, glancing over her shoulder at the camera every now and then. Sometimes she would stand and dance around to muted music.

Draco didn't like watching Theodore's mother in all her life and beauty. It made him miss his own mother, who he knew was only an owl away to talk to. He felt guilty for having a mother that still cared for him. Theodore's mother was dead and gone, and he would never get to talk to her again. Draco didn't know what was worse, having his father soulless or his mother lifeless.

The last thing he saw that came from the bundle was a jacket. It was long, like a cloak, but made of finer material than usual. It shimmered in the right light, yet not to the point of ugliness. It didn't make Theodore look like a tosser, either. It was warm in the cold air, and cooling in the hot air. It had quality and perfection and it was obviously an heirloom. Draco recognized it as Mr. Nott's cloak that he wore when he visited Lucius. Draco always thought it looked old and ratty, but now he found that it looked nice and even beautiful on Theodore. The way the black silk of the material clashed with his skin yet matched his hair and complimented his eyes…Theodore looked handsome and dashing in it. It made Draco jealous and angry, but he didn't comment. He had to remind himself, again, what it cost Theo to receive such a gift.

Then Theodore went home for the Easter Break, though Draco couldn't fathom why. There was no one there to greet him, no one to say hello, ask how school was going. There was no one who cared anymore. The thoughts made Draco feel guilty, but he couldn't deny it was true. He felt sorry for Theodore, and hope the other boy would come back to school. Even if they didn't talk, Draco found a comforting presence with Theodore. They were like brothers. Draco decided he would invite Theodore to his home for the summer. It was the headquarters for the Death Eaters, sure, but at least it was a home, not a house.


	9. Chapter 9

_Author's Note: _

_This is a Theodore Nott fanfic. A lot of other characters will probably be woven in, but its focus is on Theo. The story is told from a various different sources and point of views. _

_All of the characters, the world, the places, and the creatures belong to J.K. Rowling. I just like to play with it all sometimes._

_I am absolute shit at writing accents, and cockney is one of my worst. I really hope it isn't too bad and forgive me if you can't 'hear' the cockney. I do hope you enjoy this chapter, looking to the darker parts of Theodore's personality. _

_**Warning: boy/boy, age gap**_

The moment he got off the train, Scabior knew it was him. He had the same tussled hair that Leon had, the same bright blue eyes and the same jaw. Scabior had only known Leon for a few years before the Dark Lord fell from power and he was sent to Azkaban. It was with Leon's political connections that he avoided a longer sentence and even the Kiss. Scabior only wished he could've helped his friend avoid that fate. Instead, though, he decided to help his son. Theodore.

But the last time Scabior saw him, the boy had been barely a year old, not even. Now, here he was standing, sixteen, tall, and handsome. He cursed his luck as the boy, seeming to have received his letter, wandered over.

"You look horrible," he murmured coolly as they shook hands. Scabior recognized Leon's humor behind those baby blues. He snorted and crossed his arms. "And yer 'ave a look of a bloody tosser, don't you?" He retorted, leading the boy through the pillar. They traveled to the Cauldron, as Theodore expressed his dislike of going home. Scabior could understand that. He wouldn't want to be there either if he was Theo.

They traveled through the Leaky Cauldron and down Diagon, cutting into Knockturn. The pub there was dirty and quiet, but Scabior would be safe there from any noble prats who might want to turn him in for anything, which would be quite a long list of crimes. They ate dinner in silence and retired to their separate rooms, Scabior wondering what the hell he was going to do. He didn't think Leon would like to know that one of his friends was thinking about his son in such a perverted way. There, that was the idea he was avoiding all day and night. Theodore Nott was uncharted territory, wasn't he? Scabior licked his lips greedily, thinking about it.

Damnit, though, how old was Theodore again? Sixteen. He was more than twice his age…but there was no harm in thinking some things here and there was there? But by the third night, Scabior found it impossible to walk behind the boy without looking at his bum; it was equally impossible to take a shower without wanking off to Theodore's image, and usually his imagination ran wild there. Theodore begging Scabior to fuck him.

Naturally, though, Theodore saw the differences. Scabior saw the knowledge in Theo's eyes. Theodore was cold for a while to him after that, so cold that he forced himself to stop jerking off to the idea of his friend's son…but that led to some awkward moments. Whenever Theodore tossed his hair out of his eyes, he felt himself get hard. The way Theodore bit his lips he felt himself get harder. How Theodore watched him, knowing everything, pushed him over the edge.

Then one night he felt soft hands on his back. They traveled up, pulling his hair off his neck. Soft lips kissed the skin, teeth clashed on spot and created a soft sting, a little round hickey. Scabior, though, refused to open his eyes as the hands pulled back the thin sheet that covered his near naked body. There was soft breath over his shoulder, another bite. Then the hands turned rough, forcing Scabior onto his stomach. Still, he didn't open his eyes as he felt a lithe form straddle his ass, grinding down into the flesh as they leaned over and nipped all over his back.

"You're boring," Theodore hissed into his ear. Scabior felt his cock twitch, his heart thudding in his chest. "I thought after teasing you for four days, you'd be more excited," was another hiss. Scabior growled low in his throat. This _boy_ was being rude and very disrespectful. Then the boy's lips and tongue and teeth were back on his skin and he found it hard to think anymore, let alone stay annoyed. Theo knew what he was doing, right? This was his choice, and Scabior didn't force it on him. He was innocent in this whole situation.

But that was the nagging suspicion in the back of his head. Theodore knew what he was doing, he had chosen Scabior. He was teasing, grinding, evoking feelings and emotions within his chest and abs and groin that Scabior never thought the boy could. Yes, Theo had chosen him. Theo was testing his body, his own sexuality out on Scabior. It annoyed Scabior to be used like this. Fine, he would win this game.

He rolled over and got Theodore undressed within a minute. His own pajama pants took less than a second. Their bodies rubbed against each other, lips clashing against teeth, hands groping and teasing. Theodore stayed stubbornly silent while Scabior licked over his nipples so he turned them so Theo was pinned to the bed beneath him. He rubbed Theodore's cock in his hand, pumping it slowly. He was fascinated by it, wondering if Theodore had been touched like this before. His tongue darted out and teases Theo's tip. The boy let loose a mewl of pleasure, and Scabior felt his cock grow harder (if that were even possible). This boy was a whimper type, a mewling type. He cooed and crooned instead of moaned. Scabior thought he rather enjoyed that type more now.

And Theodore continued to croon his pleasures to the walls and to the ceilings while Scabior pleasured him with a talented mouth. However, despite Theodore's show of experience, the boy was still only sixteen and came in a matter of minutes. It didn't bother Scabior much as he tasted the boy for the first time. He enjoyed Theo's taste; he tasted sweet. When Theo came, he had arched off the bed, his voice deep as he made a noise in his throat. It was so attractive, Scabior didn't fucking care anymore. It didn't matter that the boy was sixteen, and the son of his Kissed friend. It didn't fucking matter that the boy was probably just looking for physical comfort in his troubled life, and it didn't matter if it would hurt him…

Scabior started to stretch Theodore, earning a cat like mewl from the boy, and Scabior knew exactly what position to take the sixteen year old. _Sixteen year old_, he thought, then pushed it out of his head. He wasn't really a kid fucker. The boy was almost of age, only a month or so left. What did such little time matter?

Once Theodore was properly stretched, his flushed red lips mouthing silent words, his tussled dark hair falling into his lust blown eyes, Scabior forced him up and over onto his knees. He gripped Theo's wrists, forcing Theo's face into the pillow, watching his head turn to suck in air. He saw the dark curiosity in Theodore's eyes, the dark smirk that laced those poisonous lips, but Scabior couldn't stop. He was infected by Theo's scent, his charm, and his seduction. Theodore had wanted this, he reasoned as he aligned with Theo's stretched entrance, so what was the harm?

The tightness that greeted his throbbing cock was almost too much. He forced himself up to his knees, dragging his nails down Theo's back. The boy was writhing, mewling cutely, in a way that made Scabior want to fuck him hard, right into the mattress. Theo kept his ass in the air for Scabior, his arms stretched up above his head, his finger tips running over the old headboard. The sight was unbearable and he started to move a bit before Theo was ready. He moved sharply, but he managed not to cause pain to the boy, who writhed more, his delicious noises falling needlessly onto the pillow and into the fabric of the mattress.

Scabior aimed for the boy's sweetest spot, earning him a full-fledged moan from those rosy red lips, chapped and chewed at. The boy was flushed with pleasure, his hands now claws at the wood of the headboard, leaving long marks. He was moving back into the thrusts given to him like a needy little whore. Scabior licked his lips, moving faster until he felt his own climax coming close. He continued to hit Theo's spot, the boy giving up hundreds of moans and mews, his back arching so his ass was right up against Scabior's body when they both came.

Feeling high, Scabior left Theodore's body, his cock twitching as the cold air licked over it cruelly. He lay down next to Theodore who sat up, his face flushed, his pupils big and his eyes dark with lust. His voice was huskier, broken. "Wow," he whispered softly, in a soft, seductive voice. Scabior grinned lazily, his heart fluttering oh so slightly. Then he saw the dark look in Theodore's eyes. Theo was cruel now, he had to remind himself. He probably hated anything to do with the Ministry, the Order, and the Dark Lord. Scabior fell under one category at least.

"I can't believe you'd do this to a teenager," he purred softly, spreading his body on Scabior. "You're just an old pervert, aren't you?" he cooed cruelly, stroking Scabior's cheek. Scabior swallowed dryly, glaring at the young and last Nott. But he could tell Theodore wasn't done. He wanted something to lash out at; he had gotten his physical comfort, now he needed his emotional one.

"I didn't think you'd do it. Fuck me, I mean. I figured you'd try to please me, make me feel better about myself, but fuck me…wow," he whispered. His voice was soft like velvet. His words were venom, seeping into Scabior's body. He had fucked the boy. _Sixteen years old_, he thought with a sense of dread. Azkaban was worth that quick fuck? His friend's anger and shame? Leon was gone, true, but he could feel the anger seeping from Theodore's eyes. His friend would've never forgiven him.

Theodore's eyes were glittering cruelly, and he was smirking like a true snake. Fuck, this wasn't good. "At least now I have leverage on you," he stretched, sitting up. His body was littered with bruises and love bites. Shame crept over Scabior, and fear.

"Leverage, isit? Yor the one that made the bleedin' move on me, weren't yer?" Scabior sneered, but he knew the truth. No one would believe that. Theodore laughed coldly. Leon had his son trained finely in the art of cruelty, that was for sure.

"'e made a move on me, I swear! Struth!'" Theodore mocked, his nails clawing at Scabior's chest, leaving long scratches. Little welts of blood appeared in some spots, but Scabior couldn't feel the pain. "I can see that going no where with anyone. So whenever I want a night of rebellious nature, when I want to be risqué, I'll just owl you…and if you refuse, I'll threaten you with statutory rape. Or perhaps I'll just settle for rape," he hissed, his finger tips tracing Scabior's jaw, "and when you comply, you'll equip me with another favor. Oh, isn't it just perfect?" he grinned, standing, getting dressed. Scabior hated to see him cover up that beautiful body, yet at the same time he was glad to see him go.

"'Til summer break, then?" Theodore whispered, his voice back to that innocent, beguiling voice. A voice that chilled Scabior. The boy was a Slytherin through and through, that was true enough.

"Right," Scabior said dryly as Theodore left, letting the door close with a soft click. "Well fuck me…" he whispered. He really got himself in a fix now.


	10. Chapter 10

_Author's Note: _

_This is a Theodore Nott fanfic. A lot of other characters will probably be woven in, but its focus is on Theo. The story is told from a various different sources and point of views. _

_All of the characters, the world, the places, and the creatures belong to J.K. Rowling. I just like to play with it all sometimes. _

**_Warning: implied boy/boy and bad metaphors :_/**

When Blaise returned, it was a fresh new piece of gossip. Pansy, Tracey, Millicent, and Daphne giggled and pointed and sneered and shrieked the gossip everywhere, creating different rumors and stories. It spread like wild fire through the school, and even the first years were whispering about it, trying to avoid the eyes of the older students. Hermione refused point blank to discuss it with Pavarti and Lavender, and even scolded Ron and Harry for bringing it up once.

Meanwhile, through the lies of the rumors that floated on the lips of all the students and even the teachers, one thing was perfectly clear: Blaise Zabini was scarred for life, in the most literal sense. Whatever the curse did, it was dark and there was no healing the scar that ran from just under his cheek bone to his long, dark neck. It was flat, ugly, and marred. It looked as if someone pulled his skin up from his flesh, and scar tissue grew back over it. In reality, that's probably what happened.

And at the center of all these stories was Theodore Nott. When asked by a meek pureblooded Hufflepuff, Theodore didn't answer, but walked away. The next morning, the same third year Hufflepuff was found in the Hospital Wing, suffering from a horrible stinging hex. No one else decided to ask Theodore's opinion on the matter.

Blaise himself, though, was determined to ignore the rumors, the stories, and try and regain his reputation back. It was proving impossible, though. His beauty was gone as far as he was concerned, and that was the only thing that really mattered. It was his only weapon against the powerful names in the pureblooded society. The sneers and snickers from the other Slytherins got so bad, he just avoided the common room and stayed hidden behind his bed curtains doing homework or reading.

Then, one night near one in the morning, Blaise felt his bed dip. Being an extremely light sleeper, he jolted awake and reached for his wand under his pillow. It was gone. Fear bloomed from his heart, which pumped it through his veins at lightning fast speed. Who was in his bed, who had his wand? He was defenseless and he didn't much like it. There was a soft whisper, a murmur of spells. No one was going to get in.

"Lumos," the voice whispered, and light glowed from a tip of a wand. Blaise was staring at the gaunt, pale, pretty face of Theodore Nott. His heart plummeted, his fears confirmed. Theo didn't say anything, his fingers tracing the scar with a morbid curiosity. Then he flicked both wands. As sudden as his movement, black ropes bound Blaise to the headboard. "How does it feel to be helpless?" he drawled, tiptoeing his fingers up Blaise's torso.

"No, Theodore, I'm sorr—" Blaise tried to explain. Ever since the act he felt guilty, horrible. He hadn't had a good night sleep since, wondering what he did to Theodore. When he had approached him earlier in the year, it was to apologize, whatever that would mean to Theodore. He never got the chance, being hit with the curse almost instantly. He didn't get his chance now. Theo silenced him with a quick flick of his wand.

"I don't want your apologies!" he snapped, his voice like ice, sharp and deadly. Then it melted, seemingly safe. "But I'm happy it is you that displays my ugliness, my torn mind, my ripped out heart," he cooed, the tip of both wands tracing the scar again. "Your beauty was a mask, and now it shows the truth about both of us. We're broken, disgusting. You made me this creature of the dark. I want to hurt people now. How dare they be happy, unharmed, pain free. Mudbloods, blood traitors, pure alike. I want them all to hurt," Theodore hissed like a snake. Blaise had never heard him say so much in all of his years at Hogwarts.

"I created you," Blaise whispered, his eyes gleaming in the dim light, "therefore I can destroy you." There was hope, then, that he would right the wrong, and be forgiven. Theo obviously hadn't thought of this, his blue eyes softening, his expression turning thoughtful. He placed the wands next to them and lay against Blaise's body, his arms around Blaise's neck. Thunder rolled, growling high above their heads, high above the castle's towers. It purred like a great beast, then shattered the near silence with a crack, a boom. It shook even the chandeliers in the Slytherin house. The thunder seemed to awake Theodore from his thinking.

"No, Blaise, there is no taking this back," he whispered, his thumb running lightly over Blaise's lips. "Perhaps earlier, when you first came back," he said. Voice like silk, slipping over the words, lapping at the punctuation, purring. He was a natural politician. "I was caught off guard, I hadn't woven my web yet. Now, though, you're caught, and you know it." A soft kiss, a parting for hope. Blaise watched Theodore sit up, his hands running over his body. His touch elated pleasure deep within him. Theodore laughed cruelly and teased him.

In his teasing, Blaise realized Theodore was right. He was caught by his own creation. This sexual creature, this boy that wasn't ready for that world, was going to punish everyone for it. He had been healing, he would've been fine if his father hadn't slipped away. Left with nothing but hatred and pain, he used what he had. It hardened around his heart, turned it to a gleaming gem, a sharp pointed emerald. His magic was focused through it, and the greed of people was drawn to it. His magic was weaving a complex web, Blaise mused, his body arching into Theodore's touches.

Everything his did now was owned by Theodore. His moans, his hands, his skin, his cock…it was all Theodore's. When he died, all of his things would be Theodore's. His heart gave its beats to Theo's harden heart. Blaise breathed for him, slept for him, and it was all Theodore's magic, his pure blood coursing through his veins. It was lit like fire and Blaise could feel the heat pulling him in. He loved the poetry of it, the metaphors for it. He wanted to serve Theodore, because of his guilt, because of his own pain. Because of his shameful face, his ugliness. Theodore would use it as a weapon, something Blaise wouldn't have been able to do at all.

Theodore was his savior and punisher, his lover and enemy. Theodore was everything and Blaise would give him everything until there was nothing left to give. As he came for his new master, he saw the web in Theodore's head. It was wide, strong, made of temptations, hopes, and dreams. He saw people were already trapped, Daphne, that Granger girl, even Draco was toeing the edge, about to plunge in.

And Theodore was there in the center, like a giant spider, his eyes gleaming red. There he was, Blaise, bound by Theodore's silk, his words. He was bound to Theo, to Theo's web. He wouldn't ever escape. Theodore would feed from him, slowly, torturously, until Blaise was dead. And he deserved it. He made this beast, this monster, he deserved to be killed by it.

Just desserts, wasn't it?

Theodore laughed as the thunder cracked the sky, letting the rain come tumbling down from the fixtures. Blaise felt his skin crawl, felt Theodore's words burrow into his skin. "I hurt, therefore I am," Theodore crooned, kissing Blaise again and again, forcing Blaise to please him with his own tongue.

"Please, please," Blaise begged for redemption. They were both insane, Blaise thought numbly. But if he thought that, were they?

"We're fallen angels, _mon amour_, no God will save you, and I surely won't. Sleep, let dreams wash away your blood tonight. I hate old, infected wounds." Theodore whispered as he let the wands burn out. "Sleep, sleep," he sang the lullaby as he slipped back into the shadows to his own bed. Blaise was freed from his ropes, but he felt like laughing. He would never be free again. Freedom, he thought, was worthless when you were always destined to wonder into a spider's web.


	11. Chapter 11

_Author's Note: _

_This is a Theodore Nott fanfic. A lot of other characters will probably be woven in, but its focus is on Theo. The story is told from a various different sources and point of views. _

_All of the characters, the world, the places, and the creatures belong to J.K. Rowling. I just like to play with it all sometimes. _

_I'm sorry for not posting in a long while. I'm also sorry for the crappy quality and short chapter. I'll try and catch it up, I just hit a bad writer's block. I'll get over it soon and post a lot more! 3 I hope you enjoy~  
_

Hermione was hurrying towards the Room of Requirement. She had wanted to talk to Theodore for the longest time, and finally managed to get a message to him to meet her in the Come-and-Go room tonight at eight. She didn't know if her directions to the room were good enough, or if he were going to even show up, but she had to hope. And there, in the corridor, was Theodore. His hands were in his pockets, his blue eyes studying the blank stretch of wall that led to the secretive room. She dashed up to him, smiling breathlessly.

"Hello, oh, er, I'll open it up for us then, yeah?" She grinned, pacing back and forth in front of the misleading wall, thinking as hard as she could, _Please open a room that only Theo and I can enter, please open a room that only Theo and I can enter, please open a room that only Theo and I can enter…_ When she stopped pacing, there was a door in the wall. It was small, wooden, with iron hinges. They passed through it and it closed with a soft thud behind them. The room wasn't very big, but she didn't really expect it to be the size it as for the DA. They only needed enough room to sit and talk. There were small poof chairs on the floor on a very ornate rug, a lamp sitting between the too. A window overlooked the grounds. She chose the red and gold one as he settled into the green and silver one.

Now they were together, she was unsure of what to start with. He seemed perfectly contented to watch the grounds from their window. Yet, in the silence, she felt cornered, an insect under inspection. "Theodore, what were you doing with Zabini?" She started suddenly, deciding to get right to the point. He looked over at her, his blue eyes flickering over her face, down her shoulders and torso. She felt exposed to him and carefully moved her knees to her chest. "Theo?"

"Why does it matter?" He replied coolly, picking at some thread from his chair. She blinked, and opened her mouth to tell him exactly why it mattered. Before she could make any of the many arguments that sprung to her mind, he held up his hand. "I know, he raped you, he hurt you, why even bother pretending he existed? That's the point. He _exists_. For now."

Hermione stared at him. She felt his words sink in, but she couldn't quite believe it. Was that a threat against Zabini, or just the vague 'we all die someday'. She opened her mouth to reply, but he cast her a quick glance. It silenced her immediately. He looked so dark, so angry, so _different_, and it scared her.

"I wouldn't expect you to understand, Granger. This must be done. I have no one, so there is nothing for me to lose. I will have my revenge. I wouldn't think about it too much."

"What do you want?" She asked coldly, glaring at him. He hadn't used her last name to address in quite a while and it shook her a bit. He was really changing, and she didn't know if it would be a good thing or not.

Theodore looked out the window again, his lips pursed as he thought. She noticed his eyes flickered to random objects when he was deep in his thoughts. Finally, after what seemed to be hours, he looked back at her. His eyes were cold and merciless and she felt small and insignificant. "I want to hurt people." She stared, her heart thudding in her chest. She could see it in his eyes, he wasn't lying. He was truly a sadistic monster now. She wanted to run and tell the first teacher she saw, even if it was Snape.

"Hermione, if you tell anyone, I will find a way to exact my revenge upon you." He was standing now, his hand on the door handle, watching her with calculating eyes. She swallowed thickly and nodded weakly. Then he was gone, like he was never even there. His chair was gone as quickly as he left. She stared at the empty spot, unsure if she wanted to even know Theodore anymore. She felt in danger, unsafe, and she felt as if the entire school was at his mercy.

She stood and left the room quickly, running to the Gryffindor common room. She would be safe there…wouldn't she?


End file.
